


Enslaved By The Moon

by Cozy_coffee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Community: comment_fic, Established Relationship, Final Battle, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, M/M, The Alpha Pack, True Love, Violence, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cozy_coffee/pseuds/Cozy_coffee
Summary: A fill for the comment_fic prompt; Any, any, "Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep" (by Mary Elizabeth Frye)





	Enslaved By The Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ami_ven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/gifts).



Once upon a time, in a faraway land--no, scratch that. This was not a fairy tale.

War was coming. The Alpha pack was moving in, threatening to destroy everything, and everyone, it their path. Those that were fragile, being as soft and vulnerable as they were, would be lambs to the slaughter.

Rage surged through him so quickly his breath caught within his ribcage. Derek’s broad chest heaved as he scented the air; he could almost smell Death in the wind, ripe and putrid. He bared his teeth in a snarl, heavy muscles were tensing, coiling, like a snake preparing to strike. 

The damp air felt hotter, seemingly vicious and snarling like a beast aching to be free from their cage. Stiles moves closer to him and places one hand on the wolfs side, he feels the gentle inhale and exhale as Derek breathes. The soft black fur tickles his fingertips, he keeps the barely-there stokes across soft fur, listening to the little breathy huffs that rumble from his mate. Derek shifts with easy, fur becoming soft skin under Stiles fingertips. 

The hot, tight feeling in his chest was slightly soothed as Stiles leaned into his embrace, hugging him, offering a small taste of comfort. Derek sighs and easily falls into the hug, strong arms wrapping tight around his soul mate as if to protect him from the oncoming storm.

Derek knew they were coming for Stiles, the boy who runs with wolves. They would kill him for the pleasure of taking the most important thing to Derek, the only thing that made his heart beat. Even as the sun begins to set, Derek clings to Stiles with all his might, afraid he’ll disappear if he lets go. Stiles holds on just as tightly, closing his eyes and breathing in the wolf’s familiar scent, the scent of love and home. The thought of not being able to wake up the love of his life made Derek’s heckles rise, a snarl rumbling from his chest.

They had to run. It was the only way to survive.

But Stiles was stubborn and brave; he would stand his ground, he would not be forced from his Home. Beacon hills was where he grew up, his family and friends were here. His life with Derek was all he knew.

He would not run; in Love and in War, he would stand beside his mate until his last breath.

Stiles is rough around the edges. Broken and bruised, yet full of hope and bravery. Far from home, the little lamb is surrounded by wolves with snarling jaws and razor sharp teeth. Stiles doesn’t run from them, but with them. He gasps through the pain, wipes away the blood from his hands, cheeks turning slightly pink, making his moles stand out against his lightly sun kissed skin.

He doesn’t frighten easily; he stands his ground—side by side with his Pack. Black ash stains his fingers, a growl of his own rumbling from his chest as he runs into the heat of battle, hand in hand with his mate.

Stiles heart rate is far too fast. Chest rising and falling like the violent waves of the ocean. His eyes remained red, tears tumbling down his blood-stained cheeks. Derek calls for him to run, commanding Scott to take him and the rest of the pack and run for cover, and Scott grabs at Stiles, tugs to get him to move, yet the young man remains frozen in place.

Shuddering, in the cold night, Stiles fingers knot in Derek’s shirt. Derek tries to push him away, towards Scott and the rest of their friends who are set to run to safer ground, but Stiles refuse to leave his mate. Even as the Alpha pack moves in for the kill, Stiles stands beside Derek. As the wolves of war call out into the night, Stiles claimed Derek’s lip for a kiss that could very well be the last.

When the Alpha Pack descends upon them it’s a blood bath. Howling and screaming fills the night air, he is torn away from his pack, lost in the battle for his life. He fights with every ounce of strength in him, but fate is cruel to him. Lips bleeding. He tastes blood in his mouth. It warms him, sickens him. His stomach churns, and he gags, stomach muscles coiling like a corkscrew. His hoodie lays discarded on the forest floor, torn, shredded by the monster that cursed him. 

Stiles’ eyes were half lidded, he gasps through the pain in his side. Teeth marks surrounding the broken flesh. He looks up and watches the moon closely, eyes fixed on the glow, listens to his breathing get faster and shallower as the infection begins to take hold. The change is slow, body consumed by pure agony, he lays writhing on the forest floor. 

Breathing in harsh breaths, the throbbing in his side moves throughout his entire body. He thinks he can feel his heart beating out of his chest, the frantic vibrations kicking against his rib cage. Writhing in pure agony, Stiles dreams…remembering to a time before the War with the wolves and the hunters, and a man stands out in the field across from their cabin, their home, standing still with his face turned up into the golden sunlight kissing his scruffy cheeks. 

Derek, his beloved mate, is smiling brightly; it doesn’t seem like he has a care in the world.

His eyes hold a calmness to them, his chest expanding as he draws in a breath of fresh air. Derek upon seeing his soul mate standing in the doorway of their home, dashes over to Stiles and snatches him up into his arms, hugging him fondly. Kissing his cheek. Greeting him with a promise that there is peace on earth.

Only then does Stiles come back to the real world. He coughs up blood, winces against the ache in his bruised and battered body. The fever inside him is suffocating. The transformation is slow and excruciating, savage as it strips away his humanity and leaves only the taste of blood in his mouth and the promise that nothing will ever be the same. The moon seems to sing to him, call out to him. Ignites a raging fire under his skin. 

The bite is a gift. They told him. Yet the gift did not come from the person he loves with all his heart. The person he desired the bite from. It was gifted to him by an alpha who took something precious from Derek.

His pack finds him, beaten and blood and now one of them, there is hell to pay. The sound of screaming calls out to the moon, louder until only silence fills the air. There, in the pool of blood from the enemies, Stiles stands with his eyes glowing like a wild fire. Red eyes meet his own, his mate draws near; wraps him up tight in a hug and holds onto him in a bone crushing embrace as the full moon howls out to him on this bloody night.

It takes months, and they still get no happily ever after. But they have each other and their love can overcome any struggle. As long as they are together, they will always be happy. 

Still, the nightmares of the pain from that evening haunt Stiles. He suffers nightmares, tosses and turns, his sweet boyish face twisted in agony. Derek has watched his mate linger in wicked dreams, no chance of escaping the hell until he screams himself awake, a howl ripping from his lungs. He clings to Derek’s shirt, nuzzling his mate’s chest. Gentle arms soothe him, Derek shushing him softly, and Stiles leans closer, presses his head to Derek’s chest as he hugs him in a vice tight grip. 

In Derek’s arms, he feels safe. Even after all the horror they have endured, heaven is in his mate’s arms. Derek gently traced the scar etches upon his mates freckled skin, fingers feather-light and soft and kind. Stiles skin tingles warmly, so sweet his mate is to him, as if he were a precious trinket. His golden eyes shimmer in the midnight moon light as Derek’s red eyes burn hot. Kissed gently, breath trembling, hugged tightly as if he will never be let go.

“Do you still love me?” Stiles whispers, even though he already knows the answer. He leans in closer, nuzzling his mate’s cheek; the prickly stubble tickles his skin and makes him giggle softly. “Werewolf or human,” Derek whispers, tugging Stiles deeper into his loving embrace and hugging him. “I will always adore you.”

♥ END ♥

**Author's Note:**

> [Written for this prompt!](https://comment-fic.livejournal.com/896336.html?thread=106961488#t106961488)


End file.
